


you’re the only one that i want (want to be around)

by leeinthesky



Category: New Amsterdam (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M, First Dates, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, cancer? glossed over, floyd reynolds knows everything, gratuitous use of a metaphor that i probably should have let die, helen sharpe tops change my mind, max goodwin likes rough sex, practice safe sex kids, the goodwins are not together, there is no baby luna, where to begin, wooowwww okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 02:32:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19368256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leeinthesky/pseuds/leeinthesky
Summary: baby, how i’d be grievingif you wanted to leave me all alone nowby myself, i don’t want nobody elsehelen sharpe has always been good at solving puzzles. but max goodwin just seems so unsolvable, especially when all she want to do is hold him close.the pieces fall into place, one by one.





	you’re the only one that i want (want to be around)

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys its me, lee, back on her bullshit and posting more sharpwin! however this time, i decided not to kill y’all with angst but instead give you a light, fluffy piece! also, there’s smut. like half of this is smut. you’ve been warned. 
> 
> title is from ‘coming home’ by leon bridges. don’t own that or the characters yadda yadda yadda please don’t remove this for copyright violation

helen sharpe has always loved a good puzzle.

ever since she was a small child, she has been good at them. puzzles have solutions. they’re black and white, either finished or unfinished, and they can always, _always_ be solved. no matter how hard it may seem, there is always a way out.

max goodwin is a puzzle. _god_ , is he most definitely a puzzle, and for once in her life, helen isn’t sure she can solve this one. max isn’t black or white. max doesn’t like to choose. max would rather sacrifice himself to save everyone else, consequences be damned. he’s infuriating and good at his job and never listens to anyone and looks at the world with this childlike wonder that never fails to astonish helen. 

she doesn’t really know when their relationship shifted from something explicitly work related to something much more difficult to explain. helen didn’t even notice it was happening, although looking back now she doesn’t know how she could be that blind to it. how many times have department head meetings devolved into a two-way back and forth between the two of them? how many times have they jumped apart when their friends caught them, heads together and whispering in the hallways, despite the fact that they’d only been talking about mundane things like patient charts and starbucks orders and oh, did you see the bachelor last night? worst of all, how many times has helen’s stomach fluttered at his smile or the way he looks at her?

he’s gorgeous. he’s married. and even though helen wants him so badly that it hurts, she knows she can’t have him. no matter what his lingering touches or the way he trails off when she walks past would like her to believe. 

it’s a puzzle and it’s not. it’s way too important to be trivialized like this, but max isn’t the only one who’s good at hiding behind metaphors. 

how can helen save herself without loosing him? it seems impossible because neither of them want to choose. is she his doctor? his friend? his deputy? something more? she starts by giving his case to another doctor- progress. she doesn’t even tell him, at first, because she knows how he’ll whine and pout and give her that kicked puppy look and she’ll melt and stay on as his doctor. second, she starts seeing doctor akash panthaki.

this is not really progress. helen thinks it is at first and holds stubbornly to the notion that panthaki could make her absurdly happy. he’s hot, has a really great job, and a super fancy apartment on the upper east side. not that she needs it, but he spoils her with terribly expensive gifts and nice dinners and trips to the theatre on her nights off. it’s got the added benefit of putting yet another person between helen and max. another reason it’s a bad idea to think those thoughts.

but of course it doesn’t last. in fact, it’s so short that it isn’t even half as long as some of helen’s more casual flings. she only feels a little bad for stringing panthaki along when all he really was was cannon fodder for her feelings for max. that all goes away when he breaks up with her so loudly in her office at the hospital that reynolds, whose office is down the hall, comes to forcefully remove him and make sure helen is okay. 

‘why’d it end?’ reynolds asks her the next day, in that quiet, cautious way of his. 

helen knows he means well. floyd has always been somewhere between an older brother and a life coach to her, but he’s also one of max’s best friends. can she really tell him why?

‘akash was convinced that i wasn’t as invested as him,’ she answers, choosing her words wisely. ‘that there was someone else.’

‘and was there?’

‘what?’

‘someone else.’ reynolds stares at her, no longer cautious. he studies her face, and helen knows she can’t lie to him. 

‘yes,’ helen admits out loud for the first time. ‘ _maybe_ , i don’t know. i don’t know how he feels.’

‘maybe you should just ask him,’ floyd suggests, shrugging in a way that feels just too nonchalant. ‘he probably feels the same way.’

she’s just about to ask him what he could possibly mean by that, what does he know, when their pagers both go off at the same time. patients need attending to. helen gives floyd a look she hopes comes across as thankful and starts to run off. 

‘little miss!’ reynolds calls after her. he hasn’t called helen that since they were residents, so she turns back. floyd looks like he’s biting back a smile. ‘you didn’t hear it from me, but georgia’s moved back in with her parents. i’d give it about a week.’

‘a week until what?’ helen tries to ask him, but he just winks and runs off to his surgery, leaving helen with a new puzzle to sort out. 

~

floyd is right. a week is all it takes for max goodwin to come knocking on helen’s office door, looking thoughtful. 

‘i just got served,’ he says by way of greeting. 

helen doesn’t even look up from her patient chart. ‘max, i know you’re technically a millennial, but things like that just don’t sound right coming from you.’

max doesn’t answer, and that’s when helen looks up. 

he shakes his head a little, upturned corners of his lips contradicting the furrow of his eyebrows. ‘no. i just got _served_ ,’ he corrects her, and that’s when helen notices the stack of papers fisted in one of his hands. ‘divorce court.’

‘oh, max,’ helen says sadly. she sets down her things and makes her way over to the door to envelop him in a tight hug. ‘i’m sorry.’

max shrugs halfheartedly, but his arms still snake around her waist and he lets his head fall to rest on her shoulder. ‘it’s been a long time coming. i tried but i just- i can’t be what she needs. i tried, helen, i really did.’

‘i know. i know you did,’ she reassures him. helen pulls away to cup his face in her hands. she’s always loved the blue of his eyes. ‘max, it’s not your fault. you know that right?’

‘no, it is. maybe if i worked less, if i’d been home more-‘

the idea makes helen almost mad. ‘this is where you’re meant to be. this is what you’re meant to be doing. and if georgia can’t see that, then that’s on her.’ it comes out a little more biting than she’d meant for it to. ‘and anyways, if you worked less, you probably would never have met me.’

the comment looks like it shocks max. he covers her wrists with his hands. ‘i can’t even imagine never meeting you,’ he shakes his head, and the earnestness with which he says it knocks the air out of helen’s lungs. ‘and i’m glad that i did.’

they search each other’s faces for a moment before max huffs out one of his little half laughs. he steps back just barely, moving helen’s hands from his face but keeping them securely held in his. then, so quickly that helen almost thinks she imagined it, he kisses her palm before dropping their hands. 

‘helen sharpe, how do you always know what to say?’ max asks softly. 

then, just like that, he’s out of the door and gone. 

~

helen goes with max to divorce court, because she’s a masochist and also because he asks her to come. 

she tries to stay out in the hallway where she’s mostly out of sight, but georgia inevitably sees her. it’s awkward and kind of horrible because helen actually likes georgia as a person, but georgia just gives her a sad, knowing smile. helen doesn’t really know what it means, but she returns the smile, albeit a bit more confused. 

anyways, the goodwins settle. max is much too generous and gives georgia just over half of everything. after their last court appearance, helen takes him out to his favorite vegan thai place because he just seems so out of it. it’s an understandable and totally normal reaction considering that he’s just lost the person who he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with. 

(there’s a horrible, horrible part of helen that’s glad it’s not going to be georgia. anyone who wants max to change who he is does not deserve him in the slightest. another, less horrible part hopes it can be her.)

‘are you okay?’ helen asks him when he doesn’t touch his curry. she wants to reach for his hand on the table but holds back. 

max shakes himself out of his reverie and gives her a reassuring smile. ‘yeah. yeah, i’m fine. just talked to georgia for a bit earlier. put some things in a different perspective,’ he tells her, finally picking up his spoon to eat. 

she doesn’t want to be nosy, but she’s also interested. ‘what about?’

there’s this look that max gets sometimes, when he’s looking at his friends. his eyes get all soft and his cheeks get a little pink and he just looks at you like you’re the _world_ , and even though he’s fixed numerous people with this look, sometimes helen wants to think that it’s only for her. it knocks her breath out of her lungs every time, and this time is no different. 

‘don’t worry about it,’ max says, and so helen doesn’t, because it’s no puzzle whether or not she trusts max. of course she does. 

~

whether through divine providence, good old fashioned fate, or the meddling of one floyd reynolds, helen finds herself doing a lot with max over the next few weeks. or maybe, she spent all of her time with max already and is just now noticing. 

well, they spend a lot of time together, is the point. now that there’s nothing stopping them, no buffer between them, every interaction with max feels ten thousand times more charged to her than before. helen doesn’t know how this is possible, as even when they were both committed to other people, just the idea of max touching her sent a jolt down her spine. now he actually is being ultra tactile, touching her even when he doesn’t need to be. a hand low on her back while they’re looking over a chart. fingers on her wrist as they talk in the hall. forehead kisses at the end of every hug, and a hug at the end of every day. 

helen feels like she might actually die. 

and then one bright and sunny friday, he _asks_ her. 

‘helen sharpe!’

only max calls her by her full name, so helen just rolls her eyes fondly and keeps up her quick pace. she’s got a hematology consult down in the ed to get to, and she knows he’ll catch up. 

‘hey,’ he says, a little breathless, as he skitters to a stop next to her. ‘can i ask you something?’

‘you just did.’ it’s helen’s favorite way to answer that question because it makes max laugh, but today his laugh sounds a little more strained than usual. ‘what’s up?’

‘well,’ he starts as he presses the down button for her at the elevator. he bounces on his toes as they wait. ‘i was wondering- i mean, i have chemo on sunday and i won’t be able to eat anything solid after that... okay, you know what? what i’m trying to ask is if you want to go get dinner tonight?’

helen stops dead in her tracks. _what did he just say?_

‘sorry, i don’t know why that sounded like i was asking you out,’ max says quickly, and her heart drops to her toes. but then, just as quickly as it fell, it soars when he shakes his head a little, looking confused and determined. ‘actually, yes i do. because i am. asking you out, that is.’

‘what?’ it rips out of helen before she can stop herself. 

the confidence max seems to carry around with him is gone. ‘uh, will you go out with me? sorry, i thought that you- maybe i misread your-‘

the elevator doors open with a soft _ding_ , and helen pulls him into the gloriously empty car. he follows without thinking, and she has the strongest urge to smooth away the line between his brows with her thumb. 

‘no,’ she hastily corrects him. ‘you didn’t misread anything. you just caught me by surprise, is all.’ 

max’s nervous tension deflates from his body immediately. ‘oh. good. great.’ he pauses. ‘so will you-?’

‘oh, yes,’ helen practically gasps out. she laughs at her own eagerness. ‘ _yes_ , i would love to go out with you, max.’

‘wonderful.’ max’s smile is practically splitting his face. she knows hers must be the same way. ‘i’ll come get you from your office at five?’

‘i’ll see you then,’ helen confirms as the elevator doors slide open. she steps off, then looks back at him. ‘it’s a date.’

‘a date,’ he echoes, voice awed, and helen falls in love with him all over again as he shoves his hands in his pockets and looks up at her through his lashes. 

a _date_. with max goodwin. helen is giddy the rest of the day. 

~

they go to a nice restaurant on broadway. it’s fancy. max pulls out her chair and takes her coat and keeps topping off her wine, which is why she’s maybe a little more bold than she should be. 

but it doesn’t really feel like a date, which is odd. it just feels like any other time they’ve gone out to dinner, and although helen had gone through the day with a sense of nervous anticipation, the second she sits across from max at the restaurant all of her nerves go away. he’s familiar. it’s easy to do this with him, to just sit across from him and let the rest of the world fall away. they talk about family (she tells him about her little brother’s escapades and her older sister’s travels), and school (he tells her about california and the way he describes the blue of the pacific ocean makes her think of his eyes), and work. 

‘now that you’ve been here a while, what’s your favorite thing about new amsterdam?’ helen asks him when they’re halfway through their main courses. they’ve lighted the candles that sit in the middle of the tables, and she’s enjoying watching the light dance over his face. 

his answer takes her completely off guard. ‘you,’ he says quickly and in a way that makes helen realize he didn’t even pause to think about it. ‘not even trying to be smooth or anything, it’s just true, you’re my favorite part about new amsterdam. i love getting to watch you with patients, getting to see you figure out all these complex issues.’ max shrugs, like he doesn’t even realize that he’s just said the most romantic thing she’s ever heard. ‘and you make me laugh, so that’s a bonus.’

helen just stares at him. max must be an alien, because there’s no way, absolutely _no way_ this man is real. how did she get so lucky?

‘how did i get so lucky?’ she repeats out loud incredulously. 

max smiles, pleased, and grabs one of her hands across the table. ‘you? what about me? i don’t know what i did to deserve this, but i’m damn glad that i did it.’

‘how did it take us so long to get here?’ helen asks before they devolve into just complimenting each other. ‘i can’t believe us.’

‘georgia knew.’ he chuckles, obviously no longer pained by his ex. ‘she knew from the moment she saw us together, i think.’

it almost hurts her that they were so painfully obvious, but she moves on quickly. ‘so did panthaki. it’s why we broke up, he knew there was someone else.’

‘huh. i’ve always wanted to be the other man,’ max teases, and helen tries (and fails) to bite back a smile. they watch each other quietly for a moment, hands still intertwined on top of the tablecloth and legs tangled under the table. ‘so,’ he finally says. ‘how do you feel about ice cream?’

so they go to van leeuwen. it’s this great artisanal place and max explains how they make their ice cream to helen like he does every time they go. she finds it endearing, how he’s so impossibly interested in anything and wants to learn everything. max, as per usual, orders salted caramel in a waffle cone while helen opts for one of their seasonal cinnamon-y flavors in a cup. they get their desserts then start to wander aimlessly down the avenue, hand in hand, while helen wordlessly considers why this still doesn’t really feel like a date. and then it hits her-

‘oh my god!’ helen exclaims. ‘have we been dating for weeks?’

her sudden loudness startles max, who jumps and then stares at her like she’s grown another head. ‘no? why would you say that?’

‘max, think about it.’ helen stops them dead in the middle of the sidewalk, ignoring the dirty looks they get from the people around them. ‘what made this any different from any other night we usually go out?’

max mulls it over. ‘well- it’s a _date_.’

‘yeah, but really- what did we do that we don’t usually do? we went to dinner, got ice cream, wandered around a bit. besides the label, what’s different?’

it’s funny to watch his face change from confused to shocked to humored to one of slight embarrassment. ‘oh my god, you’re right,’ max finally laughs. ‘we have been dating for weeks!’

‘we’re so dumb,’ helen laughs. the conversation should be over, but they just stand there, obstructing foot traffic and staring into each other’s eyes. 

she can’t help the way her breath hitches when one of his hands moves to brush her hair out of her face. 

‘i think this might be a little different,’ max whispers, and helen hardly has time to process what’s happening before his lips are on hers. 

kissing max is everything. he tastes like caramel and waffle cone and being this close to him, she can smell the remnants of his cologne left over through a hard day’s work. helen has to get up on her tip toes to reach him, even when he bends over, and it’s the perfect opportunity to wrap her arms around his neck. one of his hands is resting on her back, pulling her close, and she can feel every part of him. she lightly scratches the back of his neck at his hairline, and it makes him gasp enough for helen to slip her tongue into his mouth. she forgets that they’re not the only people in new york until someone passing wolf whistles their way. 

they break apart panting, out of breath but still laughing, and max lets his forehead rest on hers. ‘you want to maybe- you can say no, but do you want to go back to my-

‘yes,’ she answers without hesitating. ‘i really, truly do.’

~

they’re hardly through the door of max’s ridiculously small apartment before he’s on her. 

she hasn’t kissed anyone this hard since university and doesn’t think she ever will again. not after max, who kisses like it’s the last time he ever will and who is currently trying his damnedest to fight her for control of this kiss. she lets him have it, because she’s not entirely sure she can think enough to concentrate while his hands are all over her like this. 

her shoes come off and while he tries to follow her face down, the height difference is just too much. he’s a full ten inches taller than her without heels, and it’s comical, really. they break apart, laughing and breathing hard. 

‘tell me you want this too,’ he says in a near whisper once he’s caught his breath. he’s staring into her eyes, and they’re so impossibly blue that helen is almost distracted. 

she puts her hands on either side of his face and lets her thumbs trace his cheeks. the chemo has taken weight off him, but not enough yet that he looks gaunt. ‘i want this,’ she assures him. ‘i absolutely do. god, i’ve wanted it for too long, even when i shouldn’t have.’

that’s all it takes before max is kissing her again and pulling her towards the bedroom. helen can feel his fingers on the zipper of her dress, pulling it down and easing the fabric off her shoulders. not wanting to be outdone, she tugs his shirt up and he raises his arms to help her out. she can feel the hard muscle of his abs and smirks when her light touch makes them jump and his breath hitch. it’s max’s turn to get competitive, grazing his teeth across a wonderful spot on her neck that makes her moan. he continues his kisses down her neck and her brain comes back to her long enough to remember that the next day is a work day. 

‘no hickeys,’ she gasps. ‘i have work tomorrow, no hickeys or you’ll never hear the end of it from anyone.’

that’s enough to make max back off, and helen laughs. he’s not gone for long, coming back to tug down her dress and unhook her bra with one hand, which, yeah. hot. 

‘you’re beautiful,’ he says reverently while he lets his hands roam. 

helen feels weirdly self conscious and crosses her arms over her chest. ‘i need to loose ten pounds.’

max gets this look in his eyes, but his hands are gentle when they pull her arms away from herself. ‘no, you don’t. helen, you’re gorgeous. don’t you believe me?’

she’s not entirely sure she does. her thighs are much too wide for her body, she’s got stretch marks all over the place, and the fact that she’s sitting for most of the day has added soft padding around her stomach. she watches as max’s eyes widen as she doesn’t answer. 

‘let me make you feel it,’ he begs. he looks so eager. ‘trust me?’

‘of course.’ she doesn’t need to think on that one. of course she trusts him. 

he smiles and pushes her back until her knees hit the bed. he kneels as she sits and lays back and- oh, he’s going to eat her out now. 

helen’s eyes flutter shut as max presses light kisses to the inside of her thighs. she’s already soaked through her panties, she knows it. one of his hands snakes up to knead her breasts and play with her nipples, which makes her whine and arch her back. she can feel him smiling against her smugly as he continues to kiss her on her legs, her stomach, everywhere but where she wants him. she can only play his games for so long before she’s gasping his name. she doesn’t think she’s ever begged during sex before. 

‘max!’ she cries out after the fourth time he’s nearly put his mouth on her only to pull away. ‘don’t be a tease.’ it’s meant to be stern, but her voice is much to breathy for it to be anything other than pleading.

he pulls away, and she sits up on her elbows just in time to see the hungry look he gets when he pulls her underwear off her. his breath is hot on her and it’s taken so long for them to get to this point and it’s all so much. he looks up at her when he finally dips his head down, all tongue, and helen comes undone. 

max never does anything half-assed, she’s noticed. where most guys helen’s been with would eat her out for a minute or two and then be done with it, max works at her like it’s his job. he’s clearly enjoying himself, and watching him enjoy himself is half of the fun, she thinks. he’s hoisted her legs over his shoulder for an even better angle, and she can feel what might be the quickest orgasm of her life building. max’s hands have been wandering but now one has joined his mouth on her sex.

the sound helen makes when he slides a finger in is absolutely obscene. she hopes his neighbors can’t hear her but then realizes she really doesn’t care. that smug smile of his back, she can feel it, so she reaches out and tugs on his hair until he moans. that’s nice, so helen does it again, and max retaliates by adding another finger and crooking them just so. that’s all it takes before she’s coming, practically riding his face while he works her through it.

he doesn’t even give her time to breathe before he’s back at it. 

‘give me a second,’ she gasps, and while he hums and kisses her thigh, his fingers don’t stop moving. 

helen has never had consecutive orgasms in her life, and not for lack of trying. not even she can make herself come before she’s come down from the last one and given herself a few minutes. but max is persistent, and she’s surprised when the heat pools in her belly almost immediately. he moves up her body and helen can see that his face is literally slick with her, trailing sticky wetness all over her with his open-mouthed kisses. 

she doesn’t know if it’s because max moves quickly or because he’s made her lose her grasp on reality, but one second he’s untangling her legs from his shoulders and the next he’s got his pretty mouth wrapped around one of her nipples. this does wonders for his ‘give helen another orgasm’ initiative and max has to hold her down to stop her writhing. she comes once with him lavishing attention on her breasts and then again when he presses his thumb down onto her clit. helen’s legs are shaking hard and max dutifully brings her down from her third orgasm of the night, and while she’s definitely overstimulated she still groans when he removes his fingers from her. 

‘how you doing?’ he asks, kissing her cheek as she catches her breath. 

how is she doing? helen laughs weakly and throws her arm over her face. ‘are you kidding me? i’m great, i’ve never orgasmed like that in my life.’

max laughs and flops down onto the bed next to her. she can tell he’s straining to keep his breathing in check and helen becomes distinctly aware of the fact that he hasn’t gotten off yet. she can see just how hard he is- just how big he is- in his pants and even though she’s still a little shaky, she’s determined to have him falling apart under her. 

helen sits up and starts to pull on his jeans. max starts to help but quirks his eyebrows and tries not to smile when she gives him a stern look. he’s had his turn, and now it’s hers. she shimmies the tight pants down his legs and allows him to kick them off himself, giving her a chance to quite literally size him up. 

he’s big. she knows, objectively speaking, that she should have see this coming- he’s six feet tall, has big feet and hands and everything else grade school helen was so sure determined the size of a man’s dick- but it still makes her gasp. helen has never really understood it when her friends refer to penises as beautiful or pretty, but she gets it now. and the image of max goodwin, chest heaving, eyes screwed shut, body flushed all because of her, is one she’ll be thinking of for weeks. months, even. 

what was she doing again? logistics, her brain supplies helpfully after a sluggish minute of just staring at him. oh, yeah. there’s no way he’ll fit in her mouth entirely unless she says ‘fuck you’ to her gag reflex and quite literally chokes on his dick. she’s got appointments the next morning and she’ll have to talk to patients all day, and the thought of doing that on a raw throat sounds extremely unappealing. so instead helen takes him in her hand and starts pumping slowly. when he’s nice and distracted, she pulls her hand away, trying not to laugh at the needy puppy dog eyes he gives her. 

‘condoms?’ she asks. 

‘in the drawer.’

helen darts to the bedside table and back, practically sprinting on wobbly legs, rips open the foil and rolls the condom on with absolutely no finesse. there are sexier ways to do it, but seeing as max is literally begging her to straddle him at the moment, she doesn’t think he cares. 

‘helen,’ max gasps as she swings one leg over his hips and lines herself up. his hands are on her hips and he’s holding onto her so tightly that she’s sure she’ll have bruises there in the morning. ‘helen please, god, you’re so beautiful, i’ve got to be dreaming.’

he’s devolved into babbling and to be honest, helen doesn’t blame him. the pleasant stretch and slight burn as she slides him in herself is driving her wild and she’s already come three times tonight. he gasps and she whimpers when he finally bottoms out, and helen rolls her hips a few times to get adjusted to the feel of him. 

he’s so expressive, always is, but here, trying to keep it together underneath her, helen knows exactly how he’s doing. every move she makes from the slightest twitch of her muscles to the hardest thrust of his hips as he meets her in the middle has him making a different face. she wants to learn them all, but now, with both of them so close to the edge, is not the time. 

helen leans forward to brace her arms on his chest, and the new angle makes him squeeze his eyes shut tightly. ‘open your eyes,’ she says softly, sweetly, and he does. 

his eyes are unfocused and his pupils are so unbelievably blown that she can hardly see the bright blue color of his irises. helen reaches out to put a hand on the side of his face and simultaneously slows their pace way, way down. his eyes flutter and she can tell they want to close, but max fights the impulse and keeps them locked onto hers. 

he’s close, helen can feel it. she’s ready to let him come before her, but he’s got different plans; max lets go of one hip and rubs at her clit until she’s shaking and panting again. she’s hardly down from her high before he’s coming long and hard. she fucks him through it until he’s no longer grinding up into her. 

once they’re down from their respective highs, helen slides off max and stretches out across the bed. while she stretches, he clambers out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. he emerges after a moment, tossing her a damp rag, and searches his wardrobe for something. 

‘do you want a shirt?’ he asks her. helen almost doesn’t hear the question she’s too busy admiring the nice, sculpted muscle he’s been hiding under his scrubs. 

‘hm? oh, yes please.’

max smirks, back to his usual self. ‘enjoying the view?’ he asks, striking a stupid pose. 

it makes helen laugh, so he hits a few more equally as bad poses before pulling on a pair of sweatpants and jumping up on the bed. he wraps his arms around her waist even as she’s trying to put on the t-shirt he gives her (old forge marathon, 2006, this man runs more than any person helen’s ever met), which gives the distinct feeling of being hugged by a very needy octopus. when she looks down at him, she can still see the remnants of how blissed out he’d been only minutes before and the urge to kiss him comes on strong. 

she can do that now, helen thinks, a little bit in awe. she can look at max, want to kiss him, and just do it without worrying about wives or boyfriends or anything. to prove the point to herself, helen lets herself be pulled down by his heavy arms and kisses him softly, sleepily. max hums into it and tugs her closer, placing tender pecks all over her face when they break apart.

‘what time do you have to be at the hospital tomorrow?’ he finally asks her.

helen snuggles into his chest, forcing herself to think of work. ‘i have an appointment at 11:15. are you going in?’

max makes a noncommittal noise. maybe he will, maybe he won’t. it’s a saturday; he doesn’t have to go in if he doesn’t want to. ‘get some sleep,’ is all he says, kissing helen’s forehead. ‘i know a really good breakfast place we can go when we wake up.’

‘mmkay.’

he’s warm and the bed is soft, and while helen really wants to stay awake and just study him, she feels herself drifting off faster than she’d like. 

~

if falling asleep is calm and blissful, helen’s wake up call is anything but. she’s hardly awake, but the hands roaming her body are anything but slow and sleepy. 

‘max,’ helen sighs as she presses back into him and feels how hard he is. she’d know his soft, steady hands anywhere, even in her sleep. this is better than anything helen had just been dreaming about. 

max nuzzles his nose into helen’s neck and grazes his teeth across some wonderful spot behind her ear that makes her back arch and her mouth fall open wordlessly. he takes the opportunity to slide a hand between her legs, and although they haven’t even said so much as a ‘good morning’, helen isn’t surprised to find herself wet already. one of max’s hands is slowly tracing up her chest and the contradiction between that and the speed of the hand on her is driving helen absolutely wild. 

‘max,’ she whines again, begging him to do more, to do _anything_ , but all he does is hum lowly and pull both hands away which is definitely not better. 

but max has a plan, as per usual, and helen feels the bed dip as he pulls off his sweatpants. she wants to turn around and look at him, watch him, but just as fast as his hands had left her, they’re back again and pushing her to face away from him. there’s no warning before he pushes into her but this angle- he’s so much taller than her and can really put his hips into it- it’s glorious. 

this is not the max from the night before. this isn’t tender kisses and clumsy declarations of love and soft sex. this is rough, hard _fucking_ , and while helen didn’t know that max had this in him- he’d always seemed a little, well, vanilla- she is not complaining in the slightest, especially not as he makes her come once and then again. 

she is, however, complaining about not being able to see his face. helen remembers last night, when she was on top, all of his little expression changes and the way he had to fight to keep his eyes open and desperately wants to see them again. but every time she tries to twist around to look at him, max forces her back around. it’s frustrating her, and she can tell that he’s getting fed up by her wriggling. what helen does not expect him to do is pull out completely before yanking her up to her knees, pushing her face down into the pillows and practically growling at her to keep still. 

it’s hot as fuck and has helen panting even before the new position does. max sets a quick, relentless pace, one hand pressing fresh bruises into her hip and the other ghosting over her back, her breasts, her thighs. eventually, it settles on brushing helen’s long hair out of her eyes and tapping on her cheek. she doesn’t really know what he wants her to do- did he say something that she’d missed? it’s entirely possible, as helen isn’t really thinking many coherent thoughts at the moment. so she follows his hand with her head, fully intent on turning back to ask him what he could possibly want right _now_ , when-

_oh._

one of the features helen loves about max’s apartment is the tall mirrors that cover the wardrobe along the wall of the bedroom. often, they reflect the light that seeps in through the large windows and illuminate the whole room. but it’s not the light that helen’s admiring in the mirrors now, but max, face screwed in concentration and determination and hips pounding into hers over and over. it makes helen gasp, drawing max’s attention back to her face, and they lock eyes in the mirrored surface. 

he looks much too smug about the way helen’s legs are starting to shake, so she pushes back into him in a way that makes him curse. helen doesn’t think that she’s ever really heard max curse before and the thought of him- the sight and sound of him saying something so obscene has her gasping and gripping the sheets. 

max holds her gaze as he slows his hips way down. helen wonders if this is what it was like for him last night, when she was driving the pace, and realizes why it was so hard for him to keep him eyes on hers. he’s studying her, watching her face with every touch, every thrust. he’s figuring out what she likes, helen realizes, and the fact that he would take the time to do that is just so _max_ that it makes her come right then and there. she had been too focused on her own pleasure to notice how close max was, but the second helen is finished he follows quickly, pressing a kiss that’s more teeth than lips to her shoulder as he stutters to a stop. 

the apartment is quiet for a moment apart from the heaviness of their breathing. finally, max pulls out and collapses on helen with a big sigh, pulling her close in his arms. 

‘good morning to you too,’ helen laughs a little, quite dazzled with the way he’s looking at her right now. 

‘i’m sorry,’ he groans, burying his head in her neck. ‘i’m sorry, i was just sure that last night was a dream and then i woke up and you were _here_ , and i just-‘

‘max.’ he’s cute when he’s unsure of himself, helen thinks. ‘i am in no way complaining. there are much, _much_ worse ways to be awoken than by the guy you really, really like with his hands down your pants.’

that makes max smile. ‘only really, really like? i thought i was a little higher up, there.’

‘oh shut it, you. what time is it?’

he checks his phone. ‘seven forty-five. still up for breakfast?’

right at that moment, helen’s stomach growls, making them both laugh. 

‘sounds like you worked up an appetite,’ max says, kissing her nose as it crinkles at his comment. ‘get cleaned up and we can go.’

helen lets herself fall back into the pillows and sighs. what a way to start your day!

~

the breakfast place is really cute. it’s in the east village, only a few blocks from max’s apartment, and even though they get there at 8:30 am on a saturday, they’re seated right away. 

‘i helped out the owners’ kid, once,’ max says as an explanation as the hostess seats them at a nice table outside. of course he did. 

helen glances over the menu and tries not to stare at max. she doesn’t know what she expected him to look like on his off hours, but this is not it. she’s seen him in jeans, yeah, and his work scrubs and countless suits, but relaxed max just looks- different. he’s got on a band t-shirt that helen doesn’t recognize but has gotten appreciative stares from a few hipsters already. he hasn’t shaved, so his stubble is more pronounced than usual. he’s got a little smile on his face as he reads the menu intently and hums along to whatever french techno-bubblegum pop is playing over the cafe’s speakers. he’s comfortable, she realizes. it makes helen’s chest feel warm and she smiles. 

‘know what you’re getting yet?’ max asks, effectively breaking helen out of her reverie. 

she hums. ‘crepe. what about you?’

‘waffles!’

waffles are definitely not in max’s chemo diet plan. helen knows because she wrote it, so she gives him an impressively unimpressed look. he answers with his patented max goodwin puppy dog eyes and gives her a wide smile when she rolls her eyes and sighs. oh, well. tomorrow he’ll be eating sludge and applesauce, he can have his waffles she supposes. 

the waitress who serves them knows max and doesn’t even need to ask his order, which gives helen some indication of his eating habits outside of the hospital. she orders her crepe and puts her feet up on max’s lap under the table. it’s her fault for not anticipating the whole ‘change of clothes in case you stay the night’ thing, but she hadn’t dared hope anything would happen. so, she’s been walking around the east village in six inch heels and practically running to keep up with max’s long strides.

‘you okay?’ he asks her, rubbing hypnotic circles on helen’s ankle. 

she nods. ‘just sore.’

that makes max grin. ‘good.’

she doesn’t even have time to blush before a boisterous french woman is making her way up to the table. ‘max goodwin, my favorite customer! and who is this wonderful girl you have with you?’ 

‘antoinette, you flatter me,’ max says with an exaggerated flourish. he makes a face. ‘helen, this is antoinette, the owner. and this is helen, my, uh…my person.’ 

the description makes helen laugh. ‘bonjour,’ she smiles and says to antoinette. ‘je travaille avec max à l’hôpital.’

antoinette gives her an appreciative smile before turning to max. ‘i like her,’ she stage whispers. ‘she’s a keeper!’

max just gives helen one of those inside-melting grins. ‘yeah,’ he agrees, eyes never leaving hers. ‘yeah, i think she is.’

the kind woman may have said something else, but helen really has no idea. all she can think about is max goodwin, the hand he has on her leg, and the way he’d looked under her last night. the blush that dusts his cheeks tells helen he’s thinking of the same thing, or at least something similar. 

their food comes and they eat in relative, comfortable silence until helen can’t take it anymore. she has to ask. 

‘so, what are we doing here, max?’

he looks genuinely confused, bless his soul. ‘eating breakfast?’

‘no,’ helen laughs fondly. ‘what are _we_ doing? i mean...are we together? or are we just…’

she has to trail off. she can’t even think about what it would mean if max didn’t want the same thing as her. 

max’s eyes go wide, and he puts his fork down. ‘yes. i mean, that what i want. i understand i you don’t, but for me… yeah. together.’

helen lets out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding in. ‘good. okay, good. me too, i want to be with you.’ the admission makes her head feel a little light. ‘god, that feels good to say. i love you, and i want to be with you.’

they both freeze as helen realizes what she’s just said. she opens her mouth to take it back, but max sits forward and rests his chin in his hands. 

‘wow, we’ve progressed from ‘really, really like’. i’m moving up!’ he must see the freaked out expression on her face, because he gets serious. ‘but seriously. you’re so amazing, helen sharpe, and i’m really lucky to have you. i love you, too.’

she thinks she might start crying. oh, if only she were able to tell her past self that all of the heartache, the longing gazes, and lingering touches would be so, so worth it! this is all she’s wanted for months, to hear max saying that he loves her, and her heart feels so full that it might burst. they’ve both got matching grins and max looks so proud. 

he starts to say something else just as his phone starts ringing. he looks annoyed but hastily takes the call. helen understands why when her phone rings immediately after- it’s the hospital. 

‘hello?’ they both say at the same time, and they have to push down laughs at each other. 

it’s reynolds on her end. ‘hey, mount sinai got shutdown for the day by secret service and we’ve got a pile up on the queensboro. how quickly can you get to the hospital?’

max had obviously just been asked the same question, because he looks over at her and mouths ‘fifteen’. she nods in understanding, and tells reynolds she’ll be in the ed in fifteen minutes. 

‘well,’ max sighs once he’s done with his briefing on the situation, ‘duty calls, i guess.’

he throws some bills down on the table and kisses helen soundly as he helps her up. what a nice thing, she thinks as they make their way towards the hospital, to be able to kiss max goodwin whenever she’d like. 

~

they let go of each other’s hands before they walk up to the hospital in silent agreement. right now, this is just for them. the emergency department is crazy as usual, but down to a steadily manageable level once they get there, seemingly just having missed the worst of it with the arrival of the crash victims. 

max goes around all of the rooms to check up on those whose injuries were bad, but not life threatening. helen joins reynolds and lauren bloom in one of the big trauma rooms to work on a particularly difficult patient. 

‘where were you?’ bloom asks by way of greeting as she ties a tourniquet. 

helen hardly glances up and hopes her cheeks don’t get red with the thought of max. ‘breakfast,’ is all she says before rattling off a list of injuries. she tries not to notice the look reynolds and lauren share over her head. 

later, once everyone has been either discharged or admitted and new amsterdam is back to its normal level of craziness, floyd corners helen in the big atrium. 

‘hey, you ever talk to that other guy?’ he asks with a smile. ‘the one you and panthaki broke up over?’

helen looks over his shoulder to find max crouched in front of a little boy and teaching him how to tie his shoes. she almost forgets to answer reynolds because the sight alone is enough to have her even more in love. 

‘yeah, i did,’ she finally answers her friend. 

‘and? does he feel the same way?’

helen can’t help the smile that engulfs her face. ‘he does,’ she says a little shyly. 

reynolds nods and huffs out a laugh. ‘good,’ he says, turning to watch max with the boy. ‘i’m glad. i’m happy for you.’ 

they stay quiet for a minute before floyd speaks again. ‘i like that dress.’

it surprises helen. ‘what? oh, thank you.’

‘it’s the same one you wore yesterday,’ reynolds says knowingly. ‘and you smell like his old spice.’

helen is horribly slow on the uptake as it all sinks in. her eyes go wide as she realizes what he’s talking about. ‘oh my god, floyd-‘

‘don’t worry,’ the surgeon laughs. ‘i won’t tell anyone. and i am happy for you guys, you’re perfect for each other.’ with that, reynolds starts to walk off before deciding he has something else to say. ‘also, you’ve got a hickey on the back of your neck, _soooo_ …..’

her hand flies up to cover the spot he’d pointed too, but he’s already running off, laughing at her shock. 

helen turns back to max, almost mad that he’d broken the ‘no hickey’ rule on his first day. but her annoyance dissipates the second her eyes meet his. he’s still crouched down at eye level for the little boy (who is now practicing tying his show by himself), and the way he’s looking at her makes helen forgive him for the hickey. _i love you_ , he mouths at her with a soft smile, and helen literally feels the rest of her life fall into place, piece by piece. 

yes, max goodwin is a puzzle. he’s a bucket of contradictions, and an amalgam of everything good and everything infuriating. once, helen sharpe was afraid that she would never be able to understand him, that she would never solve him. she was only partly right: while it will take her a lifetime to figure him out, they understood each other from the moment they met, fitting together beautifully like they were made for each other or two perfectly cut puzzle pieces slotting together. 

helen sharpe may love a good puzzle, but she will never love anyone or anything as much as she loves him.

**Author's Note:**

> practice safe sex, kids. lots of things got glossed over here. 
> 
> comments and kudos are much appreciated! you can also come yell at me on tumblr, where i’m doctor-sharpe, or twitter, where i’m @saltzmantwins


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